Ji-Yung rolled over in his too-small bunk bed. Behind him sat his alarm clock, and he dreaded the moment he’d have to shift from this new comfortable position to silence it. Out his window, he watched as the tiny figures of dog-walkers and joggers made their way about the post dawn landscape of Seoul. Rooftops across the city glittered kindly, as the solar panels on each building rotated to catch the ever abundant sunlight. He dropped his gaze to the area directly beneath his school building. The rooftop park of the Jae-Kwang memorial hospital always seemed so much greener in the afternoon. In the fresh morning light the grass and trees gave off a brighter yellow glow. Too bright to look at, with the harsh glare of the sun reflecting off the small fish pond and right into his eyes. He blinked the spots out of his vision and refocused on something darker.
Across the street and down a block he could make out the blue-green glass and copper form of the Nautilus building. The schools of tuna swimming around inside the skyscraper’s floors made blotchy shapes on the otherwise jade green of the water inside. The patterns they made always conjured up images of clouds in Ji-Yung’s mind. He rolled over again.
The student stared at the alarm clock and sighed. He shouldn’t be up this early on a saturday. He could be sleeping right now, precious sleep that the week had kept from him. And here he n giving it all up for some additional tutoring? It felt unlike him. Maybe his roommates were having an effect on him after all. Two beds down, he could hear the faint tapping of stylus on plastic and he knew that Lao had already gotten to work. It was by his insistence that Ji-Yung had even entertained the idea of looking for extra help with his maths studies.
As the projected screen flickered from 8:59 AM to 9:00 AM, Ji-Yung laid his hand over it and silenced it, before it could ring. Better not to disturb the Lao’s studying.
Ji-Yung sat up against the window and tapped his right temple. A blue translucent heads up display flickered to life, a slew of notifications blinked softly at him. Ten emails from the university about events happening that month on campus. Three junk emails, reminders of assignments that Ji-Yung had made the executive decision to not complete. And a single email from one Chin-Hwa, the tutor whose time he had agreed to purchase for this morning at 10:00 AM.
With a twitch of his finger, he slid the four day forecast out of his vision and flicked open the email.
Thank you for your interest Ji-Yung, I think that I can find time to fit you in sometime midday on Saturday. I’ve got a room reserved in the Hall of Excellent Achievement. You won’t need anything aside from something to take notes with, and your school BrainStorm module. I’ll explain when you get here.
Best wishes, Chin-Hwa
Odd that they wanted to meet in person. Odder that they needed his school BrainStorm link. Ji-Yung tapped his temple and the augmented reality shrunk into nothing.
He sighed and clambered over the railing. Past Lao, who didn’t even nod as he went by. Past Kim-Soh, typing in the air in the same position he had been late last night when Ji-Yung had snuck back into the dorm room. Workaholics the two of them. They’d probably both end up with the better paying salary jobs. Neural scientists or Open Thought engineers. Ji-Yung grabbed his last clean shirt, a pair of pants and pulled some underwear out of the unfolded pile of clothes he had washed the night before.
No line for the shower today. Ji-Yung stepped into the glass box, flicked his finger in the general direction of the door, and the glass became black. 20 warm and solitary minutes later, he was dressed and out the door.
The twisting and turning passageway of the Hall of Achievement felt too sanctimonious for Ji-Yung to be completely comfortable in them. Even despite the soft music, zen rock gardens and slightest hint of incense in the air couldn’t completely dispel the sense that he didn’t have the proper respect for the past or learning to belong here.
Down the far rear of the confucian temple turned student library sat his destination, the study rooms. More like honeycomb than traditional rooms, each hexagonal study cubicle stacked upon the rest. Ji-Yung plugged in the number of the room and grabbed hold as the platform beneath him shifted and the honeycombs rotated to line up with where he stood.
Before he could rap his fingers on the wooden door, it swung inwards. Sitting in the back, a student who couldn’t have been older than 14 was flicking their fingers in the air, clearly working on something. They didn’t look up from what they were doing, but still they called out to him.
“Ji-Yung. It’s nice to meet you, I hope you don’t mind but I’ve taken the liberty of looking through the material on your syllabus. I can definitely work out a study regimen for you, but if you are willing to pay extra. I’m certain I can offer you something that I’ve found to be far more effective than just memorizing notes.”
Ji-Yung cocked his head, but stepped inside regardless. The door swung shut behind him, and he was surprised to not feel anything as the honeycomb rotated back into place.
“You’re Chin-Hwa?” He said, trying his best not to sound too flabbergasted.
“Of course.” Chin-Hwa wrinkled their nose and waved the question away. “As I was saying, hand me your uplink node and I’ll give you all the information you need to keep your helpful relatives from telling you to apply yourself more.”
Ji-Yung shook his head, his mind racing. “How do you? Isn’t that-” “Illegal? Against school code? It’s indistinguishable from learning through studying inside of BrainStorm. Seoul National University doesn’t have any provisions against VR Learning. The government doesn’t care about Ji-Yung getting an A in Calculus 3.”
Chin-Hwa got up to leave, but tossed a folded note to Ji-Yung as they stepped out.
“When you get over yourself. You know where to find me.”
Across the street and down a block he could make out the blue-green glass and copper form of the Nautilus building. The schools of tuna swimming around inside the skyscraper’s floors made blotchy shapes on the otherwise jade green of the water inside. The patterns they made always conjured up images of clouds in Ji-Yung’s mind. He rolled over again.
The student stared at the alarm clock and sighed. He shouldn’t be up this early on a saturday. He could be sleeping right now, precious sleep that the week had kept from him. And here he n giving it all up for some additional tutoring? It felt unlike him. Maybe his roommates were having an effect on him after all. Two beds down, he could hear the faint tapping of stylus on plastic and he knew that Lao had already gotten to work. It was by his insistence that Ji-Yung had even entertained the idea of looking for extra help with his maths studies.
As the projected screen flickered from 8:59 AM to 9:00 AM, Ji-Yung laid his hand over it and silenced it, before it could ring. Better not to disturb the Lao’s studying.
Ji-Yung sat up against the window and tapped his right temple. A blue translucent heads up display flickered to life, a slew of notifications blinked softly at him. Ten emails from the university about events happening that month on campus. Three junk emails, reminders of assignments that Ji-Yung had made the executive decision to not complete. And a single email from one Chin-Hwa, the tutor whose time he had agreed to purchase for this morning at 10:00 AM.
With a twitch of his finger, he slid the four day forecast out of his vision and flicked open the email.
Thank you for your interest Ji-Yung,
I think that I can find time to fit you in sometime midday on Saturday. I’ve got a room reserved in the Hall of Excellent Achievement. You won’t need anything aside from something to take notes with, and your school BrainStorm module. I’ll explain when you get here.
Best wishes, Chin-Hwa
Odd that they wanted to meet in person. Odder that they needed his school BrainStorm link. Ji-Yung tapped his temple and the augmented reality shrunk into nothing.
He sighed and clambered over the railing. Past Lao, who didn’t even nod as he went by. Past Kim-Soh, typing in the air in the same position he had been late last night when Ji-Yung had snuck back into the dorm room. Workaholics the two of them. They’d probably both end up with the better paying salary jobs. Neural scientists or Open Thought engineers. Ji-Yung grabbed his last clean shirt, a pair of pants and pulled some underwear out of the unfolded pile of clothes he had washed the night before.
No line for the shower today. Ji-Yung stepped into the glass box, flicked his finger in the general direction of the door, and the glass became black. 20 warm and solitary minutes later, he was dressed and out the door.
The twisting and turning passageway of the Hall of Achievement felt too sanctimonious for Ji-Yung to be completely comfortable in them. Even despite the soft music, zen rock gardens and slightest hint of incense in the air couldn’t completely dispel the sense that he didn’t have the proper respect for the past or learning to belong here.
Down the far rear of the confucian temple turned student library sat his destination, the study rooms. More like honeycomb than traditional rooms, each hexagonal study cubicle stacked upon the rest. Ji-Yung plugged in the number of the room and grabbed hold as the platform beneath him shifted and the honeycombs rotated to line up with where he stood.
Before he could rap his fingers on the wooden door, it swung inwards. Sitting in the back, a student who couldn’t have been older than 14 was flicking their fingers in the air, clearly working on something. They didn’t look up from what they were doing, but still they called out to him.
“Ji-Yung. It’s nice to meet you, I hope you don’t mind but I’ve taken the liberty of looking through the material on your syllabus. I can definitely work out a study regimen for you, but if you are willing to pay extra. I’m certain I can offer you something that I’ve found to be far more effective than just memorizing notes.”
Ji-Yung cocked his head, but stepped inside regardless. The door swung shut behind him, and he was surprised to not feel anything as the honeycomb rotated back into place.
“You’re Chin-Hwa?” He said, trying his best not to sound too flabbergasted.
“Of course.” Chin-Hwa wrinkled their nose and waved the question away. “As I was saying, hand me your uplink node and I’ll give you all the information you need to keep your helpful relatives from telling you to apply yourself more.”
Ji-Yung shook his head, his mind racing. “How do you? Isn’t that-”
“Illegal? Against school code? It’s indistinguishable from learning through studying inside of BrainStorm. Seoul National University doesn’t have any provisions against VR Learning. The government doesn’t care about Ji-Yung getting an A in Calculus 3.”
Chin-Hwa got up to leave, but tossed a folded note to Ji-Yung as they stepped out.
“When you get over yourself. You know where to find me.”